


årstider

by merrymegtargaryen



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Do not repost, Gen, how does one even tag for midsommar, the movie is kind of a warning in and of itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20556035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/merrymegtargaryen
Summary: Dani feels held.





	årstider

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you annie-knowby for looking this over!

_ Spring _

.

When Dani was little, she and her family used to take the train to the city on weekends. They’d do everything--ride the water taxi, visit the zoo and the museums, gather on the pier to watch fireworks. And at the end of the night, when she came down from her sugar high and the exhaustion of the day caught up with her, she let her parents carry her to the station, where they boarded the train with all the other suburban dwellers and let it carry them home. She always tried to keep her eyes open, to watch the brightly lit city fade into the dark, quiet suburbs, but sooner or later exhaustion got the better of her. Something about the rocking motion of the train and the yellow lights overhead made her sink into the vinyl cushion. How long she slept, she never knew, always passing seamlessly from waking to dreaming. Dimly, she was always aware of her mother or father easing her off the seat and into their arms, cradling her tired little body as they carried her off the train. They would glide home in their car, dim streetlamps passing in and out of Dani’s vision as her head lolled this way and that, too heavy for her little shoulders. 

Years later, when she was too big to be carried and falling asleep on the train would only make her miss her stop, she thought about those weekends with her family. She would remember how safe she’d felt, how content, and her heart would ache for it. She hoped, fervently, desperately, that she would find that safe contentment again. 

.

_ Summer _

.

At the end of the nine days, Dani decides to stay.

“If that’s okay,” she says softly. “I just feel...like I belong here. Like I’m...held.”

The elders smile warmly at her. They’ve been so kind to her, after everything. They still call her their May Queen, an epithet she is loath to let go of. 

“Of course you can stay,” Siv says, opening her arms. When Dani sinks into them, they wrap tightly around her, and she catches a fleeting glimpse of a little girl asleep on a train. “Most of our family in the summer of their life go out into the world...but as I understand it, you’ve had perhaps too much of the world.”

“Yes,” Dani whispers. 

Siv pulls back but does not let go of Dani. “I would like you to learn our ways with the children. Please do not think we are insulting your intelligence, there is only so much we wish to teach you.”

“No, I’d love to learn...thank you.” Dani can’t remember the last time anyone cared for her this much. They want to teach her their ways, to make her one of them. All four years she’d been with Christian, she’d had to fight for a place at his side, with his friends, in his life. He’d forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, but on the rare occasion she’d forgotten something he said or which professor he had for what class, he’d be impatient and condescending. There is so much she has to learn about the  Hårga, but no one seems impatient or condescending now. They seem excited for her to learn, happy that she wants to make a home with them.

When she tells Pelle, he smiles, a smile that seems to come from his entire body. She doesn’t think Christian has ever smiled that hard at her, that he’d ever been so selflessly happy for her. 

“Dani, that’s great,” Pelle says, and then he moves forward to kiss her.

It isn’t the first time; the first time had been when she was made the May Queen, high on tea and dancing and the novelty of it all. She hadn’t given it a second thought. But now…

She kisses back, fingers tangling in his hair. His hands hold her waist, hold her against him, just...hold her. 

_ Do you feel held? _

It isn’t long before they’re pulling at each other’s clothing, tugging off shirts and pants and pressing lips to bared skin. Pelle is warm and smooth, and when they fall back on Christian’s empty bed, he rolls his hips into hers and she cries out with ecstacy. For four years it’s been nothing but Christian, Christian and his easily bruised ego, Christian who got mad if she faked an orgasm but never quite learned how to give her one, Christian Christian Christian

“Pelle,” she groans, her fingers digging into his back. The door is wide open, anyone could walk in on them...but does that matter? These people understand Dani in a way no one else ever has. They’ve shared her pain with her; let them share her pleasure, too.

She comes hard, her whole body shaking and her breath stuttering in her chest as she tries to ground herself. Pelle holds her tight against him, breathing calmly and slowly until her breath matches his. 

They lie like that for a long time, just holding each other and breathing. The summer sun warms their skin, the birdsong and distant singing calm them, and soon, Dani is asleep.

For the first time in twenty years, she feels like that little girl on a train again.

.

_ Autumn _

.

The air fairly buzzes with the nine day celebration. It’s the last Midsommar before Terese will go out in the world; she’s going to the university in Stockholm, and Dani couldn’t be prouder—or more nervous. She isn’t ready to part with her firstborn, to let her wander out of the safety of the Hårga. What if Terese likes the outside world too much to return? What if she never comes back? 

_ What if I lose her, like Mom and Dad and Terri? _

“She’ll come back,” Pelle murmurs. “Everyone does.”

“Not everyone.” Once in a while, one of the younger people will disappear into the outside world and never return. They’re never heard from again, and if any of the elders go out to find them, they come back empty-handed.

“Terese will.” He touches her hand. “She has a family here. Not just in you and me and the girls, but in everyone. She’s held here.”

Still. At the end of the day, Dani coaxes Terese away for a walk. She makes idle chatter about the festival and who will be May Queen before Terese finally breaks. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“I’m just going to miss you,” Dani admits. 

“Petra says you think I won’t come back.”

Dani comes to a stop, turning to face her daughter. “The outside world is so different from the Hårga. It might be...enticing. It has more places to go and things to do than you can find here—“

“I’ve been outside before, Mom.”

“Not on your own. You’ve always been with one of us, and never for long. But you’re...you’re going to live out there on your own. You might...forget about us. Or think the outside world is a better place to live than here.”

“Mom. I have almost twenty years to live outside. I think that’s enough time to decide if I like it or not.”

“Yeah but—“

“I’ll be twice as old as I am now when I have to come back. I’ll be a different person.”

Dani looks down. “I know.”

Terese touches her, hesitating. “I know...I know you lost your family. Out there.”

Dani’s head snaps up. 

“Dad won’t tell me what happened,” Terese hastens to assure her. “Just that...the outside world is a scary place, and this was the first place you felt...safe.”

“Held,” Dani says softly. 

“Yeah. Held.” 

Dani hesitates for a long time. “Do you...wanna know what happened? To my family? Why this place makes me feel held? Why I’m so scared for you to go?”

Terese’s eyes widen. They’re Dani’s eyes, everyone says so...but that’s only because none of them knew Terri. “Are you sure?”

“Are  _ you _ sure? It’s a long story.”

“Then we’ll take a long walk.”

_ Just like Terri, _ she thinks. She takes Terese’s hand and leads her deep into the field of grain. 

.

_ Winter _

.

The ättestupa sees three elders pass out of the winter of their lives. In time, they will be reborn, beginning the cycle over again. 

Terese’s daughter cries when the last elder falls but does not die and the blue-ribboned volunteers cudgel her to death. It never gets any easier to watch, but in a lot of ways, it’s become less terrifying. 

_ We put our elderly into homes, I’m sure they find that horrifying, _ Christian had said. 

It’s true that the idea of feeling too old to be useful, to putter away until her body’s own frailness ends her life, terrifies her perhaps more than the sharp, quick ending at the bottom of the promontory. Her ashes will mingle with those who came before her, and someday, she will be reborn again. 

She turns sixty-seven today. It was forty long years ago that she witnessed her first ättestupa and found her life changed forever, and it will be in five short years that her life comes to a close. 

She rests her hand in the little girl’s hair, soothing her cries. 

“It’s alright. It was their time, you see? Don’t cry. Death is a part of life.” She bends down, wiping her granddaughter’s eyes. “It will get less frightening over time, I promise.”

The little girl clutches her skirt. “Do I have to watch when you jump, Grandma?”

Dani’s heart misses a beat. “Yes, sweet nose. But you’ll be a big girl then, and I will be ready to go.”

“I don’t want you to die,” she confides softly. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I will never leave you, sweet nose.” She nuzzles her own nose with the little girl’s. 

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dina.” She rises up on knees that use to rise a little quicker and lifts the girl up and into her arms, cradling her small body against her own. She walks with the others back to the Hårga, all of them silent and pensive. It isn’t until they make it back and she goes to lie her granddaughter down for a nap that she realizes the little girl is asleep. Smiling, she eases the little one into her bed, her head lolling with a weight too great for her shoulders. She presses a kiss to Dina’s temple, breathing in her sweet, flowery scent. 

“Sleep well, sweet nose.” 


End file.
